


hang a shining star upon the highest bow

by tumsa



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 02:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1088539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumsa/pseuds/tumsa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt for fluffy Christmas fic, with Harry, Louis and their kids preparing for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hang a shining star upon the highest bow

**Author's Note:**

> [Roxy](http://louisjingles.tumblr.com/post/70393178417/i-can-write-you-a-fluffy-fic-if-you-want-do-you/) wanted a fluffy Christmas fic, and I was at a coffee shop (you have to live your life like the AU you want it to be) writing so I decided why not. As always - this is just a fiction, don't know the boys and can't foresee their future either. Unbetaed and very, very sweat, so bear with me.

"Daddy, daddy, auntie Gemma is here!" Louise is announcing when the doorbell rings as if Harry couldn't hear it. She's jumping up and down on the bed, still dressed in her bunny pajamas and nowhere near ready to go. Harry has spent good fifteen minutes trying to braid her hair (her golden brown curls getting more and more impossible to brush and style) and right now is trying to find her new favorite jumper (knitted from very bright turquoise wool, with white snowflakes on it) with no success. He swears he washed it two days ago and put in her dresser, but it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Sweetie pie,” Harry catches Louise and she giggles and tries to get out of his hold, clearly having way more energy than her dad does (it’s eight in the morning and his tea mug is somewhere downstairs, cold and not even half-empty, Noah had accidentally spilled milk all over the kitchen and then it was already seven thirty and too late to eat breakfast), “auntie Gemma doesn’t have a whole day, you need to get ready,” he puts Louise on the ground and hands her tights and socks. Louise is four years old and insists on dressing herself (“I am not a baby, dad!”), and Harry knows better than to start that fight with her.

Ten minutes later, with a help of Gemma, both Noah and Louise are ready to go, dressed appropriately for the cold December morning outside. Harry helps Louis to put their kid car seats in Gemma’s car while Louise is telling her auntie about the Christmas tree decorations she had made the previous day (paper stars and snowflakes covered with red and golden glitter (and Harry swears that glitter is now everywhere in the house, there is still red and golden dust in Louis’ hair this morning)) and Noah is holding Gemma’s hand, which is a surprise. Noah is seven years old and most of the time refuses to hold Harry’s or Louis’ hand (he still does it sometimes when none of his classmates or friends can see it). Five more minutes later after hugs, kisses on cheeks and promises to be good kids and listen to their aunt and Gemma’s promise to call if anything happens (accompanied with an eyeroll and “seriously, I’ve looked after them a million times, calm down, you, dorks”) Harry and Louis are left alone on their doorstep.

“Come on, love,” Louis says, turning to go inside the house and wrapping a hand around Harry’s waist. “We have presents to buy and wrap, and you still need to eat something before we go. I saw your tea cup on the sink in the downstairs bathroom.”

 

~*~*~

Eight years after they did the interview with _Advocate_ (and Louis still remembers the day interview happened as it was yesterday, he was both terrified of saying or doing something wrong, of hurting their fans and friends who didn’t knew and their reactions, and excited to finally be able to tell everyone how much in love with Harry he is and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with that perfect boy without hiding, wants to be able to go on dates and movies, wants to be able to hug and kiss him whenever he wants, wants to have kids and family) and after _One Direction_ had stopped doing massive tours (they still do shows from time to time, they still have an upcoming album, but it’s all a slow process, no rush and enough free time for their families and other things they love to do) it’s much calmer. Their fanbase now mostly consists of twenty-thirty year olds who appreciate a good mix of indie and rock music, they don’t get mobbed anymore (at least not usually) and it’s quite easy to go outside and do things without much hiding and effort. And even after all these years none of the guys mind fans wanting to take photos or asking for an autograph (their only wish being not to take photos with their kids), so Louis is not too worried about shopping in public. Most of the gifts they buy online, but buying and wrapping gifts for their kids is a tradition they have, something they do every year no matter how busy they are. It’s also a tradition for Gemma to spend a day before Christmas with Louise and Noah, and even though she’s married and has her own family she still insists on taking “her favorite nephew and niece” to a Christmas theme park every morning of 24th December.

“I can’t believe we’re buying a doll house that is bigger than she is,” Harry murmurs as the saleslady is disappearing in storeroom with a promise to get the needed box. It’s a big Barbie Ballerina house and Louise has never liked dolls too much, but she wants to be a ballerina (she tippy-toes around the house all the time and wears a tutu constantly) and Louis had seen her eyes lit up when a Christmas commercial with Barbie Ballerina and it’s house was aired, and he can’t say no to his little princess no matter how hard he tries not to spoil her.

“It was that or a pony,” Louis says, “a _real_ pony, papa” he adds, doing his best impression of Louise’s serious voice.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs while two salesladies are bringing out the box. It’s smaller when not put together, but still big enough that they will have to be creative when wrapping it up. “At least Noah’s gift won’t take up our entire closet.”

“Our entire closet is full with your clothes, love,” Louis teases, and it’s not far from truth, Harry has more clothes than any human being should, most of them being self-designed these days, and Louis still can’t understand why someone needs ten different black shirts or twenty pairs of jeans, but he actually doesn’t mind at all, loves Harry’s plaid shirts and knitted jumpers, wears them more than Harry does, and Harry has a few fashion and design awards to keep up with as well.

“Says a thirty hear old with hundred pairs of vans in his shoe collection,” Harry replies and smiles that special smile which makes his dimples come out of hiding and Louis’ heart to do a jump or two. Harry hands his credit card to one of the girls and sighs dramatically, as to show how crazy it is to live with Louis.

“That is so not true, _Harold_!” Louis does a fake pout for the show since both sales girls seem to enjoy their banter. One of the girls had asked for their autographs shyly and Louis wouldn’t be surprised if their exchange shows up as a cute story in her twitter later. He doesn't mind at all. “Is that a way how to treat a birthday boy? You wound my heart!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry laughs. “Now can you forgive me and help with getting this to the car, _boy_?”

 

~*~*~

Having two kids means your house will never be spotless no matter how hard you try (and having one Louis as well means a double mess, according to Harry (and Louis will not object to that, although he does try to clean after himself more than he did a few years ago, wanting to be a good example to their kids)), and right now their kitchen looks a little bit like a warzone. Flour is everywhere and so is chocolate, and there are drops of milk on the floor and powdered sugar is covering not only half of their kitchen table, but half of Harry as well. The air smells delicious, a mix of gingerbread spices (cinnamon, cardamom, allspice and some others that Louis can’t name) and chocolate. Gingerbread cookies are already in the oven and Harry and Noah are trying to make chocolate chip ones. Louis is leaning against the counter, Louise sleepy in his hands, she smells like honey and cinnamon, and her tiny fingers are playing with a loose thread of Louis’ jumper (technically it’s Harry’s, still smells like something musky and his perfume and _home_ ), her mouth is still covered with gingerbread crumbs and chocolate she helped to put in cookie dough, and Louis knows there will be stains of it all over him, but he couldn’t care less. His little baby is growing up too fast and it’s a rare moment these days to hold her without her protests, she always has been very active, always running and jumping, never wanting to sit still, so it’s nice to just hold her. Right now she’s humming along the radio that plays in background, Coldplay singing their “Christmas Lights”, and even with no big effort she’s perfectly on tune, and Louis feels like his heart is swelling with pride and love.

Harry looks up from the pan where he and Noah are putting spoons of cookie dough on a baking paper, and smiles, and Louis knows that Harry is feeling the same, it’s written all over his face, the love and happiness and gratefulness with a little bit of “can you believe we are so lucky to have this?”, and moments like these make everything, _everything_ worth it. Harry winks at Louise and she giggles and hides her face in Louis’ jumper.

“Done,” Noah says with a proud face, putting the last spoonful on the pan. Although Noah looks almost like a direct copy of Louis, he certainly is a better cook than his dad (“He’s just learning from the best, Lou!”), and even though he wants to spend most of his free time playing football with friends and learning guitar from his uncle Niall, he also loves to help Harry with cooking, and Louis can tell how much Harry loves that. He often comes up with recipes that are easier and safer to cook just so Noah could help him, and they have a tradition of baking cookies every weekend while Louis reads stories or plays outside with Louise. Harry puts the pan in the oven and thankfully it’s the last batch of cookies to bake.

It’s almost ten in the evening and usually Louise is already asleep and Noah is preparing to go to bed, and Louise is yawning a lot, so Harry announces that it’s time to go to bed. Nobody objects because it’s Christmas next morning, and both Louise and Noah know that going to bed sooner means waking up and getting presents sooner and driving to their grandparents to meet their uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents. Noah is old enough to take a quick shower and brush his teeth by himself so Louis takes Louise up to her room (while Harry stays to watch over cookies and clean up the mess at least a little bit). Louise allows to be undressed and dressed in her pajamas, obviously being to sleepy to “be a big girl who can dress up”, Louis helps her to clean of the chocolate of her tiny mouth, and brush her teeth since she’s half asleep in his arms and puts her into bed.

“Do you want a story, baby doll?” he asks, wrapping Louise in a blanket. She seems to think for a little while, always wanting to hear stories about pirates and princesses and ballerinas, but ends up shaking her head.

“Goodnight, papa,” she whispers and turns her cheek for Louis to kiss. “I love you,” she murmurs and falls asleep.

“I love you too, princess,” Louis smiles and turns on her bedside lamp. After that he goes to Noah’s room, helps Noah to put away his clothes and clean up toys from the floor. Noah is obviously sleepy, so Louis lets his dinosaurs to stay on the desk and doesn’t insist on putting them away as he usually would. Noah hugs him and says “Goodnight!” and “Tell dad goodnight from me!” and although Noah has been avoiding goodnight kisses since he started to go to school, he kisses Louis’ cheek and murmurs “Happy birthday, papa!” and if Louis holds him a little closer and a little longer than usual, nobody is around to see that.

Louis is about to turn off the light and wish his son sweet dreams as well, when Noah asks in a small voice: “Papa?”

“What is it, kiddo?” Louis asks, using his favorite nickname, even though Noah usually insists he is not a kid anymore and they should use his name. He knows that voice, knows that Noah is worried about something and wants his son to know that it’s okay to talk no matter what it is.

“Do you think... do you think I’m on the good list?” For a moment Louis has no idea what Noah is talking about, when he realizes his son is wondering about Santa Claus (and he has to hide a smile, Noah is already seven years old and Louis and Harry had talked about chances of Noah finding out Santa is not real from other kids at school, but so far they have been lucky).

“Of course, you are,” Louis says, “You’re the nicest boy I know, and I am sure Santa knows it too. And if no, I will have some words with him, I promise.”

“Daaaad!” Noah laughs, “You can’t fight with Santa!”

“I won’t have to, kiddo, believe me.” Louis says and Noah smiles and yawns, clearly happy with his dad’s reply. “Now, lights off and sweet dreams!”

 

~*~*~

Their living room is almost dark, the only light coming from lights of their Christmas tree and a fireplace. There’s a plate of still hot chocolate cookies on a coffee table and two cups with mulled wine, and it smells like Christmas and home. Harry’s sitting on a couch, wrapped up in blankets, their TV is playing _Love Actually_ but the sound is turned off.

Louis sits down next to Harry, wraps blankets around both of them and leans in to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Louise and Noah wish you a goodnight,” he murmurs, suddenly feeling sleepy himself. It’s been a long day, shopping, wrapping up presents (that had ended up with having sex in their closet of all places), having Louis’ birthday lunch with Gemma, her family and their kids, a snowball fight later and cookie baking adventures as well. It’s also one of the best days he has had this year.

“We should put their gifts under the tree,” Harry says, wrapping a hand around Louis’ waist and pulling him in closer. There are still traces of powdered sugar in Harry’s curls and Louis smiles against Harry’s neck, biting his tongue to not sing one of their old songs about _traces in your hair_.

“Yeah, we should,” he yawns but doesn’t make any effort to move. They sit like that for a while, Harry hands him a mug of mulled wine and a cookie, and they drink and eat quietly, the movie still playing in the background (it’s the scene where Mark confesses his love for Juliet, and it’s the most heartbreaking ever, reminds Louis of _I Loved You First_ and how he always feels really sorry for Mark, because Mark clearly is an amazing guy if he made those word cards). They are not talking, they used to have long conversations for hours almost every night, after they put baby Noah to sleep, and they still do sometimes, but it feels like they can talk without words, it’s enough for Louis just to look at Harry and he knows what his husband is thinking and feeling. It’s always been that way for two of them, silent conversations with their eyes even when they were not allowed to talk.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Harry says, his palm absently stroking Louis’ back.

“Mhm, I always though Mark is a better choice,” Louis agrees, but Harry shakes his head (and some of the powdered sugar lands on Louis’ cheeks, but he can’t be bothered).

“I mean _this_ ,” Harry says, “us. Our family. Christmas. Me, having you.” And there is that tone in Harry’s voice, that sounds almost painful and reminds Louis of sneaky touches and kisses and whispers when they had to hide everything, reminds of Harry sliding in Louis’ bunk bed on their tour bus and whispering “I love you, Lou, I love you so, _so_ much, is that really so wrong?” and reminds Louis of all the times he had felt hopeless and helpless.

“Hey, none of that,” Harry says, either reading Louis’ mind or feeling his breath getting shaky. “Only happy thoughts are allowed on birthdays, remember?”

Louis does, and, God, suddenly he’s so close to crying from all the emotions, because he is so god damn lucky to have this, to have Harry and Noah and Louise and _family_ , and Harry is right, he can’t believe this is happening with him either, they have been so lucky, so blessed with everything, and sometimes Louis wonders why and how, and sometimes he thinks _this must be a dream_ , but most of the times he’s just thankful and happy.

“I love you, Hazza,” he says, because it is true and never gets old, and he could write a love song with just those words and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“I love you too,” Harry says and leans down to kiss Louis. His eyes shine wet with tears, but he’s smiling, all dimples and curls, just like the first time when Louis saw him in a bathroom and thought that maybe, maybe he does believe in love at first sight.  “Happy birthday and merry Christmas, Lou!”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://babyoflouis.tumblr.com).


End file.
